


The Winchester Road Tape vol. 1 Part 1

by stormboxx



Series: Asphalt Symphony [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Homophobic Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-27
Updated: 2014-03-27
Packaged: 2018-01-17 04:21:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1373722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormboxx/pseuds/stormboxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Dean's birthday. Blueberry-pecan pie and a pit stop. Good times. And of course, punk ass demons giving him grief.<br/>It was a law of nature; Dean Winchester does simply not get days off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Winchester Road Tape vol. 1 Part 1

Sometimes Dean Winchester laid plans. Most of the time he didn't; he usually just understood what kind of problem they were facing and came up with something spontaneously. 'Making it up as we go', that sort of thing. 

Tonight Dean had planned for him and Sam to go grab a bite at a place he had once heard Bobby mention. It was along the way to the town they were heading for. Although there was no time to be enjoying themselves, considering the seriousness of their case, Dean selfishly allowed himself to make a quick stop, just tonight. After all, it was his birthday. 

Sam had caught a story somewhere online about teenagers, in Blueridge, where they were headed. They seemed to disappear every month or so, more and more of them, only to turn up again chalk white and stone dead. While speculation in local media seemed to believe that a new type of drug was the cause of the deaths, the brothers knew that drug or not, this was their kind of gig.

Either way, Dean had planned for them to make a stop at a diner, have a cup of coffee and a slice of what Bobby had described to be 'heaven in your mouth', and then get on with the job and head to the town of Blueridge. If they stayed no longer than an hour he would gladly lay in another hour in the morning, sleep be damned, and they would still reach Blueridge before midday tomorrow.

There were indeed very few things in life that Dean Winchester made plans for, and stopping for pie wasn't such an elaborate one. That being as it were, it didn't make it any less important. Pie. Important.

***

It didn't even remotely turn out the way Dean had planned. It rarely ever did, so why was he even surprised? Life hated Dean Winchester. Dean Winchester hated life. It was an unspoken law of nature. If there's a will there's a way, as the old saying goes, and by one way or another life would find a chance to sneak up on him and bite him severely hard in the ass. His birthday seemed to be no exception to this rule.

Although there was no denying that sitting behind the wheel of his baby was Dean's biggest pleasure, he would be the first to admit that stopping every now and again to try out any new town's special pie was a close second. 

They found themselves at “Martha's Steamy Stove”, and while the name was undeniably questionable, neither of the boys had any complaints on the coffee. The place made a pie from an old family recipe, golden crust, with fresh blueberries and pecan dusted on top. 

When they sat down, and the waitress Martha herself took their order, they had been told they were out of their famous blueberry pie for the day. 

“We're usually out before five in the afternoon, darlin'. Everyone 'round here knows that,” she had told them while watching Dean's smile turn into a distinct pout. When asked if she had anything else worth celebrating one's birthday with, she seemed to consider Dean and Sam before smiling and heading back to the kitchen. When she came back to their booth she said she would gladly bake one for Dean from scratch if he promised to buy the whole thing. This late at night she probably wouldn't be able to sell all pieces, and Dean knew when a deal was a very good deal. At least he liked to think so. He could doggy-bag the rest, save some to microwave when they eventually had to stop for a motel later.

Sam was on his second cup, the steam slowly sneaking up underneath his nose, and by some miracle he didn't spill the scalding hot beverage in his lap when Castiel suddenly just appeared beside him.

“Hello.”

Dean leaned in close and whispered, somewhat agitated.

“Cas, you can't just pop up like a frickin' Jack in the Box when we're out like this! People usually question when someone suddenly appears outta thin air.”

“Dean, calm down. Have you seen the crowd?” Sam said over the brim of his cup.

“Who's Jack?”

Dean ignored Castiel, and turned around to look at the fellow patrons in the diner. Sam was right, no-one seemed to even lift so much as an eyebrow. Two old hunting companions, it seemed, sat quietly sipping coffee at the counter, rifles by their feet. Probably locals and maybe friends of Martha. Other than that there was a young couple at the far end of the counter, and Martha and the chef behind it. Quiet night, it seemed. The place would probably be eerily quiet had it not been for the beat up jukebox playing old 45's by the counter. At the moment there was some classic old Elvis on, from the time before he was fat and wore jumpsuits a tad too tight.

“So what's up, Cas? Any news from the top floor?”

“I'm afraid I haven't found anything yet that might be of help for you, and..,” Castiel started, a slight tenseness to his words before he shut his mouth completely.

“And what?” Sam asked, immediately concern in his voice. He seemed a bit out of it recently, Dean had noticed. Of course, nobody blamed him. When Lucifer himself walked the earth and openly stated he wanted to wear your skin, anyone would probably be quite on edge. Hopefully.

Castiel shrugged and folded his hands on the table, sighing.

“My superiors are starting to question my staying here, my desire in continuing to accompany you two. They are afraid my loyalties have... shifted,” he concluded, frowning as if not being completely sure himself. 

“Well?” Sam urged on, clearly wanting Castiel to elaborate.

All he received in return was a pair of sceptic eyes, looking at Sam as if he was trying to figure something out.

“Sam's asking you, Cas. Your loyalties, are they with Heaven or with us? Honestly, I don't care where your loyalties are, man, as long as they're not with Lucifer.”

“No, Dean. Of course, my loyalties are with my home, with Heaven. I do believe that sealing Lucifer back where he belongs is easier if I continue to accompany you. As he is looking for Sam, and I have the opportunity to search both earth and heaven for information, I am hoping we will find him before he finds you.”

Castiel paused.

“Also, I think you will need all the help you can get. After all, you are the main reason he is on earth in the first place.”

Castiel looked at Sam stone-faced, and for a few seconds nobody said a thing. When Castiel didn't stop staring straight at him without emotion Sam lifted his hands in exasperation. 

“Well, don't sugarcoat it, Cas. Geez,” Sam rolled his eyes and downed his cup in one go before getting up.

“Toilet.”

Dean sat back in his seat, the fake, brown leather in the booth squeaking as he did so. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Some blueberry-pecan pie would be swell just about now, he thought.

“Cas,” he said without looking up. “Sammy's taking this pretty hard already, he might not show it, but he does. Let's go a little easy on him, ok?”

“I was simply stating the fact of this situation, Dean. Sam broke the last seal, and that set Lucifer free from his cage.”

“Yeah ok, I get that, just.. just try and 'state' stuff like that in a friendlier tone, or you know, don't mention it too much around him at all. He's already drowning himself in guilt, man.”

Castiel bowed his head slightly and nodded once. Message received.

The tune on the jukebox changed to some old British 60's group, The Byrds, Dean seemed to remember they were called. The intro of the song was interrupted as the door of the diner flung open, the bell on top chimed and five high schoolers entered, all in matching red and white jersey jackets. 

Sam came back from the toilet, and three of the jocks went straight to the jukebox while the other two sat down at the booth closest to the door.

“What the hell, dude, this old junk's only got music for retired grannies,” one of them said, and just as Sam passed them, the one who complained turned around and bumped right into the big wall that was one Sam Winchester.

“Dude! Watch it,” the jock said. 

He was clearly the kind who would jump at any chance to pick a fight. Not too much unlike the older Winchester himself when he was that age, Dean regrettably admitted to himself.

Both Castiel and Dean saw Sam lift his hands in a manner that said he didn't mean any harm, even though it was the kid who bumped into him in the first place. When he sat back down in their booth, Dean saw all three of the jocks eyeing them with clear distaste. Dean simply lifted an eyebrow and looked back until they quit their stupid staring contest and turned back to the jukebox.

“Hey, Mister!” Martha called coming out from the kitchen, and came towards them with a fresh pot of coffee in one hand and an additional cup in the other.

She came up to their booth and poured them a new cup each, and sat a third one in front of Castiel.

“Hi sir, I didn't see you come in. Do you want a slice of pie as well? It's ready in two minutes,” she smiled sweetly as she poured coffee for the angel.

“No thank you, this beverage is sufficient enough,” Castiel stated simply and earned himself a slight frown from the owner. She shrugged, and turned to Dean with a smile.

“Well, Mister, more for you I guess,” she said and headed back to the kitchen.

They sat in comfortable silence for another minute, before Sam stretched and slouched back in his seat.  
“Ok, after these three cups I think I'll manage a few more hours on the road. What're you thinking, Dean? Continuing east a few more hours and find a place to crash?”

Dean nodded and saw Martha exit the kitchen again, with a huge, steaming blueberry-pecan pie on a plate.

“But first, Sammy, pie,” he whispered, winked at his brother, and got up.

Dean, with a sudden triumphant jump to his step, accompanied Martha carrying some plates over to their table. She would probably manage perfectly herself, being the owner of a diner for twenty years as she had mentioned earlier, but when she had gone out of her way to make Dean a whole pie he felt at least he could help her a little.

“Oh, you just sit, I've got it covered,” she laughed as Dean swooped up the plates and forks from her hand.

“Please, let me,” Dean answered and he heard the jocks behind him snort. He could care less, it was pie-time and Dean wouldn't let some snotty teenagers darken his mood.

They ate in silence except from Dean's gentle humming around a forkful every now and then. 

“So, Dean..,” Sam started and put an object in crinkly red wrapping on the tabletop.

“What's this, Sammy?” Dean was unable to hide his excitement.

“Happy birthday, big brother,” Sam smiled.

Dean felt warmth spread throughout his body. He never really spoke much about his birthday, he never expected anything, but Sam always came up with something anyway. Small gestures, never anything extraordinary, but always right. 

“Oh, what's this?” Dean laughed, although still trying to hide his excitement.

He ripped the wrapping off and in his hands was a cassette tape, with Sammy's unruly writing on the label. It said:

“The Winchester Road Tape vol. 1”

A bit surprised Dean looked back at his brother.

“Sammy?”

“I've been putting together a tape of songs we both like. Including one of Cas' as well. Thought, hell, the apocalypse is near. We'll fight, maybe even go down fighting, but at least we can listen to some good tunes while doing it.”

Dean was stunned silent, and a warm feeling started to spread through him. He was not gonna fricking cry, but he knew his eyes had gone blank and glassy when he saw that Sam's had as well.

“Thanks, Sammy. This is awesome. Thank you, man.”

Sam smiles big and broad and without hiding his satisfaction. To Dean that smile meant more than the cassette tape, the pie, his birthday. To see his younger brother smile so freely was the greatest gift he could get.

“Nice, happy you like it. Now hand over some more of that pie.”

They are about to continue eating, but the jocks a few tables away were staring at them again. The pretty boy quarterback snorted and shook his head.

“Fags,” he said, looking straight at Dean.

“Don't mind them, Dean,” Sam said quietly, eating a little more quickly.

The jocks stood up, apparently still set on the weird staring-thing they got going.

“Who the hell gives a guy a cassette tape they've obviously made “with love”, for his birthday? How much more gay can you possibly get?” pretty boy said and earned snorts and disgusted huffs from his friends.

No-one had time to register, but suddenly Castiel was standing in front of the leader of the jocks.

“Woah, dude, what the hell!” one of them squeaked.

“It would be advisable to cease speaking now,” Castiel said looking straight at the jock leader.

One of the others tapped pretty boy's shoulder and whispered,

“Chester, seriously, that guy is freaking creepy. Let's bounce, huh?”

Pretty boy, or Chester, turned and looked at his friends with a disappointed frown.

“The hell? You guys all pussies now, or what? You scared of these faggots?”

Castiel's eyes turned close to murderous and when he spoke again his voice was even rougher than before.

“You will not speak like that on my friend's day of birth. You should leave, I think.”

Chester crossed his arms and did a quick up-and-down look over Castiel, the disheveled tie not lost on him.

“Yeah, you think so? And who the hell are you? His boyfriend?”

The whole group started laughing, but shut up again quickly when Castiel grabbed Chester by the shirt and ground out darkly,

“I am Castiel. I am an Angel of the Lord. I am their friend, and I am the King of the Backseat, you son of a bitch,”

The silence lasted for all but three seconds before the group were howling from laughter.

“Did he.. did he seriously just say that?! Angel of the Lord? King of the backseat?!”

More laughter.

Dean had stood up now, his whole body was tense, and if Sam didn't know any better he'd say that his brother felt like making mashed potatoes out of the five high schoolers.

“Which of these faggots' 'backseat' are you riding, huh? King Kong, or Vouge-boy over there?”

“I don't see how that is relevant, but it is Dean Winchester's car.”

The laughter died down, and Chester smirked with satisfaction.

“Dean Winchester, huh?”

Chester turned his head in Dean and Sam's direction, and pried Castiel's fingers from his shirt.

“Then I guess Godzilla over here must be Sam Winchester. Thank you for enlightening us.”

With a slick 'click', Chester's eyes went black. The rest of his group followed suit.

“Sam,” Dean growled, not taking his eyes off Chester.

Realization suddenly dawned on Castiel. He had given them away, played right into the demon's little game.

“We'll be out back,” said Chester, and he and his company rose and left the diner.

Two moments passed and Sam was suddenly up in Dean's face.

“It friggin' had to happen..! Lucifer's searching for me, what do we do, Dean?”  
“We kill those son's of bitches. C'mon, walk with me,” he said and waved his hand.

Sam had his hand on the demon knife already, and the three of them headed out.

“What about your pie, gentlemen?” Martha asked and looked confused as they exited the diner.

“Be back in a minute, darlin',” Dean said, and somehow she seemed satisfied enough with that.

***

When the three of them came around the corner and out in the parking lot they were met with the sound of satisfied laughter. The jocks, or well, the demons possessing the high schoolers, were resting against the trunk of the Impala. Dean began walking faster.

“You get the hell off of my baby right now!”

“Or what,” quipped one.

“Or I friggin' drown you in holy water and cut you into small demon pieces right now.”

Chester jumped off the trunk raising his hands. Dean knew better.

“We're only here to talk, Dean. To you brother.”

Dean crossed his arms. In the side of his eye he could see Sam, still gripping the demon knife inside his jacket, ready to pounce at any moment.

“Yeah, y'know, I don't think so.”

Dean chanced a quick glance to Castiel and whispered,

“Cas, Leonardo Da Vinci, now.”

In a split second Castiel was gone.

The demons started laughing again.

“All that mouth and strength, when it boils down to it he's just a pussy like all angels. You see how he leave you in the middle of the heat? Angels... you can't trust them,” said Chester.

“But we can trust you, is that what you're saying?” Sam snorted.

“Oh, c'mon. We're not here to fool you, to fight you. We're here to bring you an invitation, Sam,”  
Chester started.

“Lucifer wants to meet up, discuss future plans, swap skin. You know, the usual.”

They noticed how the demons had trapped them without really noticing; they were in the middle, and surrounding them were the five demon's borrowing the high school jock's bodies.  
“Sure. Then where the hell is he, your sugar daddy Lucy?” Dean spat, hiding his growing nervousness.

Where was Cas, he thought to himself, his back now pressed up to Sam's.

“Oh, he'll be here. He'll be here real soon, now that he knows your darling little Sammy's here,” said Chester.

“You don't get to call him that,” Dean growled.

“What, really? Sammy, did you hear that?”

“Don't.”

“Dear me, your brother is quite dominant, isn't he, Sammy?”

“You stop that right now, or I swear-”

“Swear what? That you'll kill me? Don't be boring, Winchester. Isn't it time you face the facts and accept you've been played? You're outnumbered, your angel buddy has fled, and Satan himself is on his way here right now as we speak to have a tiny one-on-one with your brother. Come on, Dean, just accept that you're-”

“CAS!”

Dean roared and in the next second all five demons stood stock still in their places.

“Nice work,” Dean winked to Castiel as he reappeared.

While the bickering had been going on, Castiel had silently painted a demon's trap around them, cloaking himself, making himself invisible.

Sam straightened up, rolled his head from side to side and stretched his shoulders.

“Well, shall we?” he said and turned to his brother.

“Be my guest, Sammy.”

“Cas, can the boys be saved?”

“They are already gone, Sam,” answered Castiel solemnly.

While the demons tried to beg for mercy, suggesting things that might keep Lucifer away, promising to join their cause, spewing all the usual bullshit, Sam did a quick job of stabbing each and every one of them quickly, and in an efficient manner. As soon as the bright light left the last demon, Chester, he pocketed the knife and turned to Dean.

“Now what? Lucifer's on his way, we need to get.”

“No arguing that. Get in the car, I'm getting the pie and then we haul ass.”

 

Dean got the pie, he got back in the car, he turned to fourth gear and got the hell out of there.

 

\- End part 1 -

**Author's Note:**

> This is still unbeta'd, I'm afraid. Still, I'd be so happy if you left me some kudos and/or commented to tell me what you think! Cheers!


End file.
